You're Not Alone
by gjnnypotter
Summary: Harry is struggling to come to terms with the losses he has faced. Will he ever realise he is wanted?


He was alone. That's what he kept telling himself anyway. They all wanted him to talk, but he didn't. The only thing talking would accomplish would be upsetting the Weasley's, they shouldn't have to hear his burdens. No, it was better if he kept quiet, stayed shut up in Bill's old room in the Burrow, and not talk to anyone.

Fred was his fault. Remus and Tonks was his fault. Colin, Sirius, his parents, Cedric, Mad-Eye, Dumbledore and everyone else who died was his fault. They died and suffered for him, for his cause. He didn't know if he could live with that knowledge. The crushing guilt that had consumed him had a tight grasp around him. Sleepless nights, dreams plagued by nightmares haunted him.

He was currently lying on his bed, staring up to the peeling ceiling, eyes unseeing. Dawns rays shine through the curtains, the light dancing across the room as if it was mocking him. The boy, or man now, sighed quietly and slowly got up. He blindly reached out and felt around the bedside table for his glasses. He grasped them and tiredly pushed them into his face. He slowly made his way to the door, wincing slightly as the floorboards creaked underneath his socked feet. The clock on the wall told him that it was currently 5 AM, the rest of the houses inhabitants would surely be asleep. He grasped the door handle and slowly pushed open the door, peering round the corner of the doorframe told him that there was no one on this floor. He sighed in obvious relief and slowly made his way down one flight of stairs, to the landing where the bathroom was. The door was open, that was the Burrow code to say that it was unoccupied. He crept into the bathroom and silently shut the door behind him. He picked up his toothbrush and put a good amount of toothpaste on it, scrubbing every corner of his mouth in order to clear the fuzzy feeling in it. He popped his toothbrush back into the pot and looked into the mirror.

The face that stared back out was not his. Dark bags marred under his eyes. His cheekbones seemed more prominent, and by Merlin he was pale. He looked like a ghost. Small pinkish cuts were littered all around his face from the battle a mere month ago. They weren't healing quickly by any means. The lightning shaped scar that donned his forehead peeked out from underneath his raven hair. The scar that started it all. The scar that reminded him of everything he lost, and that was a lot. The green eyes that were once so full of life seemed so dull, so old. Sure he had the face of a seventeen year old, but his eyes seemed that of an old man. He had seen too much, lived through too many horrors. He found himself wishing that he wasn't here. He stared at his face and felt nothing but pain. He wished he was with his parents and Sirius.

"Why me?" He thought to himself. Green eyes once again darted up to his scar. He was Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. He was a fighter, a brave faced warrior, a war hero.

So why did he feel so broken?

Harry turned sharply on the spot and walked over to the shower. Maybe that would help clear his mind? Harry turned the water on and let the water pound against his skin, still being careful not to make too much noise. It didn't help. The water only aggravated the other small casts marring his skin. He stepped out the shower and wrapped a towel around his middle. He looked down and was surprised to say the least, he hadn't realised how skinny he had gotten in the last month. Harry could clearly see his ribs jutting out. But what worried him was the dark purple, almost black, bruise that was placed on the centre of his chest. Where the killing curse hit him. Where he almost died. No, where he did die. Harry placed a hand over the bruise and barely refrained from crying out. It hurt way more than it did a few weeks ago. He slowly got dressed, the fabric hanging from his small frame, he stepped out of the bathroom. He inched past Mr and Mrs Weasley's room and climbed back up the stairs into the room he was currently occupying.

He collapsed onto the bed and lifted his head up to glance at the time. It was 6 now, he had spent a whole hour in the bathroom and he hadn't even noticed. Harry let out a dejected sigh and flopped his head back onto the pillow, not bothering to take off his glasses. There was no point in trying to sleep, so instead he lay in silent. He soon heard the hustle and bustle begin. He heard footsteps going up and down the stairs, scuttling across the landing. He heard shouting, the sound of Ginny scolding Charlie for pinching her toast as they made their way up the stairs.

"Why is he still in there Gin? It's doing him no good!"

"Charlie, don't you think I've tried to get him out? It's killing me knowing he's hiding from us." Harry could hear their voices getting louder, he quickly rolled over and feigned sleep.

"Watch Charlie," Harry heard Ginny tell her brother, a couple of knocks sounded at the door before her voice called through, "Harry? Are you awake?"

Ginny didn't wait for an answer, the door swung open gently and two redheads popped their heads in.

"Merlin, Gin he looks awful." Charlie said in a horrified whisper

"Leave him, he needs to sleep. He'll come down when he's ready" Ginny said after a minute or two of painstaking silence. Harry felt gentle hands cup his face and slowly slide his glasses off of his face. The door closed gently and Harry opened his eyes, the blurry sight of the closed door taunting him as if it was telling him to stay there. Alone. He never felt so alone.

The whole day passed, and not once did Harry leave the room. Pretty much all of the Weasley's and Hermione had popped their heads in to see if he was ok, but all they were met with was silence from the broken boy who occupied the room. The sun had set, the clock said it was 10 PM. The room was faintly lit by the last of the summer sun. Harry still lay in the bed.

"It's your fault" "You're the reason they are all dead" "You're alone" "They'll never forgive you" "You're alone" "You don't have a family" "You deserve to feel this pain" "You should be with them, buried six feet under"

Harry sat up with a start. He had drifted off subconsciously and was greeted by the nightmares. The constant reminders that he was alone. Alone.

And before he knew it, he was crying. Crying for the first time in years as all of the pent up anger, grief and sadness got to him, finally. Sobs escaped his lips and he sunk down to the floor, leaning against the bed as the tears cascaded down his face. "I'm sorry!" That sentence was repeated over and over again as he collapsed, his emotionless mask being ripped off.

Harry didn't hear the footsteps outside of his door, he didn't notice the door swing open. He only noticed that he wasn't alone when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his chest. He looked up, startled, and his bloodshot green eyes met the concerned eyes of Mrs Weasley.

"It's ok Harry, let it out, let it out." Her gentle words and strong arms made him break down again as he collapsed into Mrs Weasley's embrace, his head hidden in her shoulder.

The door opened again, to reveal a shocked and saddened looking Mr Weasley. He sank down to the ground, his hand rubbing slow circles on Harry's back.

"It's ok son, we're here, your not alone."

You're not alone.

These words echoed in Harry's head. His sobs slowly subsiding as he realised the truth.

He may not have any living relatives. His godfather may be dead. His mentor may be gone. Many of his friends may be gone. But here was the proof. He wasn't alone. He had the Weasley's. He had Hermione, Teddy, Andromeda, Kingsley, Neville, Luna, McGonagall and so many others that cared.

Harry James Potter wasn't alone.

Harry James Potter had a family.


End file.
